


Mombasa

by StAnni



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Domestic Violence, M/M, Post-Relationship, Pre-Canon, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 09:57:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17506439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StAnni/pseuds/StAnni
Summary: When Dom phones Eames can hear Arthur tell him that he is heading to Thailand and Eames assumes that he has spun Dom some lie about meeting with his sister, Amy. And Eames, handing Arthur a coffee asks “He believe you?”  to which Arthur just shakes his head, taking the cup. But he adds, almost apologetically “I should go back in a few days.”





	Mombasa

In his dream it is Arthur that is in the window and Eames is pleading with him to step back inside the hotel room. “Remember last year?” he says, trying to distract Arthur. “Let’s go there, let’s go tonight.” And Arthur looks at him, eyes dark and glinting in the moonlight “Just us?” he always asks and Eames nods, relieved to have said something, anything, to keep his attention “Just you and me, love. Just us – before all this shit.”

He starts having the dream about a month after Mallory’s death, and that is already a year after the break-up. He has the dream almost every night and eventually phones Arthur on a burner number that he gets from someone who knows someone who worked with Dom and Arthur in Oslo. After a stiff silence Arthur clears his throat and Eames waits. “You still in Kenya?” he asks and Eames, his heart starting to race, answers, as even as he can “Mombasa, yeah.”  
Arthur hangs up and two days later he is at Eames’ door.

In the early morning of the next day Eames leans over Arthur’s naked back on the bed to retrieve a cigarette. Arthur turns his face to watch Eames light up and exhale. “How is Dom?” Eames asks, and he doesn’t really need an answer and Arthur doesn’t give him one. “I saw it coming.” Arthur says, plainly and Eames looks at him, at his brown eyes – distant and unfocused. “You know she phoned me, a couple of times, a few days before.” Arthur’s voice is quiet and the only thing in the world. Eames waits. “She was…different. Disturbed, I guess. After a while I ignored the calls.”   
Eames puts a hand on Arthur’s cool shoulder and keeps it there. “It wasn’t your fault, love.” He offers and Arthur turns his head away.

When Dom phones Eames can hear Arthur tell him that he is heading to Thailand and Eames assumes that he has spun Dom some lie about meeting with his sister, Amy. And Eames, handing Arthur a coffee asks “He believe you?” to which Arthur just shakes his head, taking the cup. But he adds, almost apologetically “I should go back in a few days.” 

That afternoon Eames sinks down between Arthur’s spread legs in the glorious heat of the day and sucks him with a hunger akin to their first time – so many years ago. Arthur, slightly lifting his hips off the couch moans with hand on the back of Eames’ head and bucks up into his mouth a few minutes later – emptying himself. Afterwards he kisses Eames’ swollen lips almost desperately and turns himself over, knees spread, bracing himself against the back of the couch and breathes raggedly for Eames to take him. They fall back into their easy rhythm, under the same spell that overtook them the night before, and Eames, gripping Arthur tightly against him, comes with a groan after a few rough thrusts – biting Arthur’s shoulder.

Later, after dinner, Arthur steals a cigarette and Eames lights it for him – winking at Arthur’s smile of thanks. “Are you seeing anyone?” Arthur asks and it is a-matter-of-fact, a little sting that travels straight through Eames’ heart. Eames leans back and away – he almost forgot this, how hurtfully ambiguous this all can be. “No” he doesn’t lie. “There was a guy, a few months ago, but it didn’t pan out.” He clarifies to Arthur’s raised eyebrows.

If this is painful to Arthur it certainly doesn’t seem so and Arthur shrugs, ticking the ash from his lit cigarette quietly into the ashtray on the bedside table closest to him. “You shouldn’t close yourself off, James.” He says and at the use of Eames’ first name Eames tightens up, his stomach turning acidic. “You don’t want to have that dream forever.” Eames doesn’t say anything and Arthur doesn’t look at him, but the air feels sour and thick.

By the third day Arthur is on the phone again, booking a flight to Rome. Eames listens as he steeps his tea. “So you’re just going to keep on playing Cobb’s sidekick for the rest of your life?” He asks and there is vitriol there, which Arthur, graciously and ever so polite, elects to ignore. “He’s my best friend. He’d do it for me.” And it’s a ridiculous lie but Arthur must know that and Eames is not about to throw himself against that wall. “Arthur. Ever the martyr” Eames says with a smirk and Arthur doesn’t say anything, but looks from Eames’ face to the teacup for a good long second.

On the fourth day Arthur is flying out and the night before, Eames – admittedly in a foul mood, picked a fight about Arthur’s socks and clothes hanging over the shower-rod to dry. It was a petty little argument which seemed to swell quite rapidly into a full blown fight and ended with Eames back-handing Arthur after what he thought to be a particularly pointed insult. And with that the world ended again, as it did a little more than a year before.

Arthur, taking a taxi from Eames’ doorstep doesn’t look Eames in the eye when he evenly says his goodbye. “Take care of yourself.” He offers and Eames, staring at those long lashes, has to swallow before he answers “You too, darling.”


End file.
